Sometimes you have to grieve a thousand times to be able to inhale the fresh scent of an old breeze. Sometimes you have to walk into the centre of your vulnerable holy space over and over again to touch upon the wound that weeps those trapped tears when you least expect it.
When its not proper to cry.
Like............
When you're standing in the self checkout line with a bunch of "boost me up" tulips in your arms.
When its not proper to cry.
Like............
When you're standing in the self checkout line with a bunch of "boost me up" tulips in your arms.
Or, when you're telling a funny story only to realize you have lost the person who would've enjoyed it the most.
Damn those tears. November remembrance tears. They have a lonelier echo to them as they fall into a space stretched between the notes of the last birdsong. Raven tears. Not the timbre of the spring warble-desire that pling when the flocks return at dawn. Not the tears that hang suspended from the eaves in a summer downpour until they cascade into a puddle warmed by pavement. Raven tears echo past laments.
The yearning to relieve the grief..... to feel the soft feathery touch of another's fingertips on your salt stinging cheeks, to feel the power bounce in your step again motivates, inspires, moves us past the soul sticking sorrow that initially grabs your guts, catches your breath until you exhale the jolting "It can't BE!"
Grief prompts us to turn our hands upward open for guidance, to fold them in prayer. It cradles us to rock back and forth until you find the centre of gravity. It offers us a spiritual audience to spill out those fierce words that are poisoning the heart wound, to act out with adolescent limbs grasping for balance again. It is the flint needed to catch a spark of soulful hope which in turn ignites the lantern of soft light. Soft light carries us to safety and stillness.........where we once again can gaze inside the stories, memories and familiarity without it rubbing against the wound anymore.
Sometimes you have to grieve a thousand times to inhale the fresh scent of an old breeze. Sometimes you have to let the tears stream down your stinging cheeks a thousand times or more before the story is ready to be told with a merciful heart........... one still on the mend.
ps. My thoughts after a walk through a Labyrinth on the retreat this weekend. It was helpful insight. It was good to let go of another layer of grief. It doesn't seem like "miles to go" anymore for this little pilgrim. :)
ps. My thoughts after a walk through a Labyrinth on the retreat this weekend. It was helpful insight. It was good to let go of another layer of grief. It doesn't seem like "miles to go" anymore for this little pilgrim. :)
3 comments:
Just when I think I've run out of layers, I discover another one lurking where I least expected it.
I'm getting better at the grief thing, though. Strangely, it seems to have strengthened my soul. I remember telling my wife at one point last year that I felt broken. Today, not so much. Damaged, healed and different. But definitely not broken.
Ah, raw skin...... it hurts doesnt it? Yet, it is what we need to do in order to get to the place where those memories and stories don't hit you in the gut with a sense of loss. Rather a soft glow feeling of spiritual connection.
I know what you mean Carmi about the broken feeling. Mine is gone too. Scared, changed.... and still healing, but not broken.
I think when you reach a point where you can give thanks for the gifts you've acquired through the death and the grief, you know you've made it to a place of wholeness....albeit a different kind of wholeness... one with cracks in it. :)
Just like Leonard Cohen sings about.... that's where the light comes in.
This is so very beautiful and true Dana. Thank you.
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